


binding agents

by Elendraug



Series: flashstep anointment [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Casual Sex, Cloaca, Communication, Food Kink, Friends With Benefits, Homestuck Kink Meme, Honest Content, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sex Toys, Tribadism, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 12:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: “I kind of wish we’d just eaten it.”“Next time I’ll make one that won’t suffer such a fate.” Jane gathers up the paper towels and brings the whole thing over to the trash can. “You can pick if you want angel’s food or devil’s food.”Caliborn watches her drop it all, with remorse. “The difference is purely ideological,” he says.





	binding agents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamingHierophant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingHierophant/gifts).



> [prompt:](https://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/40628.html?thread=47391412#cmt47391412)
>
>> **Caliborn/any, cake fetish, Achewood reference, voyeurism**  
>  _So as fans of Achewood might know, one character, Ray Smuckles, has[a thing for](http://achewood.com/index.php?date=08162005) [girls sitting on cakes](http://achewood.com/index.php?date=08262005)._  
>  _Caliborn also has a notable Thing involving girls and cake._  
>  _Somehow, through coercion or double-dealing or even asking nicely, the little red cherub has his dreams of a girl/Dirk in such as tiny panties and a hat grinding a cake mercilessly beneath their bottom come to life._  
>  _Be as kinky or as shitposty as you want with this, I am just curious to see it_  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> ♫ jessie j: laserlight (but mostly because I also listened to her music for part 1)
> 
> I’ve been trying to write this since May 2016. Enjoy.
> 
> Thank you mangret for the artwork!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please note that this fic explores themes of miscommunication and discomfort during sex that may be uncomfortable for some readers, but it does not cross into what I would consider “dubcon.” Proceed at your own risk.

“All right, commencing Operation: Cakefarts.”

Dirk squats on the kitchen table, his practiced balance a crucial skill in this moment. His ass, barely covered by something akin to a Speedo, hovers above a round cake that is mercifully not frosted with chocolate, given the circumstances and the unfortunate connotations that it would entail. 

“Please don’t fall,” Caliborn says, seated at the table with his hands in his lap.

“Yeah.” Jane’s arms are crossed over her chest, in the next chair over. “If you break your neck doing this, it’s a Just death.”

“I’m not gonna break my neck.” He holds his arms out to steady himself, and lowers himself to sit on the cake. 

It immediately gives way beneath his weight. The frosting smears around his thighs and over the fabric of the swimsuit. Toppled sections of crushed confectionary spread off the paper plate and onto the paper towels they wisely laid out on the table prior to this venture. 

Dirk makes a face. “This was a mistake.”

Caliborn frowns. “I normally enjoy quoting myself, but I have to say, this is not as titillating as I desire.”

Jane gives them both a rueful grin. “Could the allure of this cake possibly be considered _a lie_?”

“Banned.” Dirk tears off a section of paper towel from the outer edge of the makeshift tablecloth and scrapes away cake crumbs that have glued themselves to his skin with frosting. “Okay, look, yeah. I’m gonna take a shower like, right now.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Jane stands up and grabs the entire roll of paper towels off her counter. “Try not to clog my drain.”

“You know what’s down the drain? The nine American dollars I spent on that cake. That’s a lot of yen.” Dirk glances up from cleaning himself off to check for their reactions, and is met with blank stares. “Man, seriously? I don’t want to have to explain this joke.”

Jane unfurls several paper towel sheets, tears them off the roll, and hands them to Dirk. “Would you suggest that we look this up or should we spare our sensibilities?”

“I dunno. I’ve personally seen worse, but.” Dirk takes the paper towels and clears enough cake away from himself that he can finally get up from the table without sending significant debris onto the floor. He checks over his shoulder to assess the remaining mess, then looks back at them. “Wait, did you really think I was going to fart into the cake?”

“I was just waiting to see where you were going with it.” Caliborn shrugs. “Your stage presence was good enough.”

Jane folds up the mass of paper towels over the remains of the cake and tries to consolidate the heap of garbage. “He’s done it for the Vine.”

“Eff,” says Caliborn.

“Eff,” repeats Dirk.

Jane takes a step closer to Dirk and slides her finger through a glob of frosting he missed, at a spot where his inner thigh meets his swimsuit. She licks it off her fingertip. “At least the recipe turned out.”

Dirk lifts an eyebrow. “Should I hold off on the showering?”

“No.” She pats his ass twice. “The whole thing does seem like a waste, though.”

Caliborn licks his fingertip and picks up some crumbs from on top of the paper towels for his own investigation. “I kind of wish we’d just eaten it.”

“Next time I’ll make one that won’t suffer such a fate.” Jane gathers up the paper towels and brings the whole thing over to the trash can. “You can pick if you want angel’s food or devil’s food.”

Caliborn watches her drop it all, with remorse. “The difference is purely ideological,” he says.

“Betty Crocker would beg to differ, as would I.”

“Betty Crocker is not the queen of cakes.”

Dirk laughs. “Betty Crocker would beg to differ.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and crumbs fall to the floor.

“Do you want ants, Dirk?” Jane asks. “Because this is how you get ants.”

He grins. “I see I’m not the only one memeing today.”

She smiles back at him. “Why don’t you clean up and afterward we’ll discuss what else we’re eating?”

Dirk looks between the two of them. “What else _are_ you guys eating?”

Caliborn shifts in his chair.

“We’ll see.” Jane kisses his cheek. “Use one of the older washcloths, all right?”

“Not the ones for guests, huh?”

“You practically live here at this point.” She gently shoves him towards the living room. “Guests don’t sit in my desserts.” 

“You’ve got me there.” Dirk laughs and leaves the kitchen. His swimsuit reads AWESOME SAUCE across both asscheeks, in a hand-stitched detail added just for the occasion. His footsteps are audible as he heads upstairs.

“What else are we eating, Jane?” Caliborn asks.

Jane stands behind his chair and puts her hands on his shoulders. “You tell me.”

[ ](https://k.nickpic.host/BMWSA5.png)

“I have heard that how you humans roll, is that you eat some cake, and then subsequently hold some hands.”

“You’ve heard correctly.” She snakes her fingers down his right arm and takes his hand into her own, raising his arm up from his lap in the process. “You must have had a reliable source for this information.”

“I think you will find that when it comes to reliability, he is simply the... uh, most reliable there is.” He tucks his thumb claw over her thumb, and tilts his head back in the chair. The back of his head presses against her chest through her _Jeff Foxworthy Greatest Bits_ t-shirt. “Are we staying in the kitchen?”

“Isn’t that where you think girls belong?” Jane squeezes his hand and stands solidly in place. “Should I make you a sandwich, sir?”

Heat rises to his face and he glances down at the table. “No.”

“Then you’ll have to be more specific about what it is that you want.” She leans forward to press against the back of his head, and catches him catching his breath. “Otherwise my feeble female intellect might not be able to figure it out.”

“I think you already know.” He flicks his tongue out, self-consciously. “Or you wouldn’t be pushing your _bulbous locations_ against my skull.”

“I’m jutting exuberantly outward into spacetime, am I?” She runs her thumb over his knuckles, gradually warming his fingers towards a mammalian body temperature. “Where do you think there’d be enough space to contain my mass and its hefty gravitational pull?”

Caliborn tilts his head back further, as if pulled towards an event horizon. “Probably the couch.”

“The couch, huh?” She leans down, her bangs falling over her face, evaluating him. “And what grand designs do you have for the couch?”

He swallows, and she meets his gaze, upside-down. He flicks his tongue out again. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

He lets out a shaky sigh, nervous, feeling her heartbeat in stereo. “About you fingering me.”

His skeletal lips are parted, teeth bared, throat offered to her, his breathing shallow through his dentition.

Jane kisses the corner of his mouth, her lips brushing against the edge of his gold canine. “You want it that bad already?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

She brings his hand to her mouth and kisses his knuckles, one digit fewer than her own. “Do you want to wait for Dirk?”

Caliborn shifts and resettles his weight, thighs spread further apart. “He left us alone for a reason.”

“Is that so?”

He nods. “We... talked about it, on the way over.”

“Hmm.” Jane lets go of his hand and runs her fingers down his chest, skating past the suspenders, past the screen printed symbol. “I could easily be persuaded to contemplate some frightening fauna.”

“Rude.” His stomach muscles tighten beneath her touch. “My realness should not be called into question.”

“This calls for further investigation.”

Jane reaches down to cup her hand over his crotch, and he draws in a sharp breath. She keeps her index and middle fingers splayed to press down, where she estimates [his hemipenes](https://elendraug.dreamwidth.org/2018/12/07/unifiedtheoryofcherubjunk.html) would be at the verge of everting. The gambit pays off, and he bucks towards her hand.

“Jane, _fuck_.”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” 

He squirms against her hand, and she pulls away to move to the side of the chair. She slips an arm beneath his knees, her other arm beneath his shoulder blades, and lifts him easily.

To steady himself he loops his arms around her neck, and snorts. “Bridal style?”

“You’re so easy to lift I could allocate you to my strife specibus.” She brings him into the living room on sturdy footsteps. “Calibornkind.”

“I don’t need anyone else weaponizing me,” he says, and as soon as they’re near the couch, he scrambles to flop onto the cushions. “That’s too abstracted.”

She’s atop him in an instant, her knees on either side of his thighs, her breasts pressed to his chest. “Let’s focus on your realness attribute, then.” 

He rests his head on the arm of the couch. “Bring it on, Crocker.”

Jane grabs his slender forearms and pins them over his head, her strong hands holding him in place against the couch. She kisses him, and he opens his mouth to her, welcoming it. His forked tongue touches to hers, and he lets his eyes fall closed, drawn to her, the force of attraction as inescapable as a black hole.

“I need this,” he says, plaintive against the soft skin of her cheek, and she lowers a hand to cup between his legs again, to indulge the request.

“Take all of this off, then,” she says, and she’s the first to comply with the new rules, and removes her glasses to set them on the accent table. As soon as she’s done she’s returned to leaning over him.

Jane keeps enough distance that Caliborn can unclasp his suspenders, unbutton his pants and shove them downward. He raises his hips off the couch cushion and allows her to hook her fingers into the waistband of his pants and yank them away from his skeletal frame, until she can tug them past the claws and metallic construction of his respective cherub feet, and do away with his underwear in the same fashion. The lone shoe he wore into the house is already stationed next to her front door, kicked off as soon as came indoors.

The suspenders remain dangling at the hem of his shirt when she lowers her fingers to his vent, her thumb seeking the peek of his hemipenes as they just barely evert past the slit of his cloaca. She lifts her hand to her mouth and spits on her fingertips until they’re wet enough to slip across him, but not quite enough to enter him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and it’s all she wants in that moment.

“You want me to make you come?” she asks, mentally summoning the bravery she felt their first time, when Dirk’s dirty talk had emboldened her. “You want me to fuck you?”

Caliborn nods, and spreads his legs for her. He opens his eyes to fondly regard her, and flicks his tongue to taste his own arousal in the air, along with the affiliated pheromones of hers. “I need this,” he reiterates. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

“One good turn deserves another,” she says, and she lowers herself on the couch to heft his legs over her shoulders, burying her face between his thighs the same way he’d done for her. She’s only briefly familiar with the alien arrangement of his genitalia, but with his hemipenes prodding outward from his slit, it’s instinctual to seal her lips over one of them and suck it down into her mouth.

Caliborn moans and lifts his hips towards her face, and with another while of flicking the tip of her tongue against him, he’s everting further into her mouth, pliable and fleshy and satisfying to suckle on. She brushes her bangs away from her face and slides her arms beneath his thighs, keeping his legs apart to grant herself full access to his cloaca. The hemipenis in her mouth reaches a full hardness, before the one on the opposite side for its lack of stimulation, and she makes a point of rolling it around on her tongue.

“Oh, fuck.” His thighs are shivering. She takes it as a sign to keep licking on him. “Don’t stop.”

She shifts to test one fingertip against the entrance of his vent, feeling out his slight slickness, and pushing to penetrate him with her index finger, to her first knuckle.

He grunts, and she has trouble going much further. She keeps her fingertip where it’s at for the time being, teasing at his entrance, just barely beneath the cloacal flap. He contracts around her finger, and brings his hands down to pet the back of her head, encouraging her efforts.

They can both hear the shower running upstairs, and there’s a thrill in the implication of a time limit, or the very appealing potential of Dirk coming back downstairs to witness both of them coming. His presence was instrumental to establishing their mutual comfort last time, but now that there’s a baseline, they’ve been itching to explore each other alone.

Not that he’s not welcome to watch or join in, if he wanders back soon enough.

“He’s been teasing me about this,” Caliborn says, watching as her lips and tongue work him over. He takes a deep breath. “Like, in a good way.”

“I’ll tease you about me,” Jane counters, pulling off just enough to speak, her breath hot where her saliva coats his hemipenis. She spits onto her fingers and slides her index finger further into him, to her second knuckle. He tenses. Jane switches her attention to the opposite side and takes his other hemipenis into her mouth, and sucks hard on him, fluttering her tongue against the organ as she rocks her finger inside him.

Caliborn’s legs twitch over her shoulders, and she increases the suction as she moves her lips back and forth across him. He’s small enough to fit completely within her mouth, and it’s easy to roll him around on her tongue, to suck him towards the roof of her mouth.

He shifts his hips back, and she follows the motion, keeping him slipping between her lips and tongue, keeping her hand moving, pumping her finger gradually faster into him. 

Caliborn shifts back again and sits up somewhat, petting her hair but urging her head away.

She looks up at him, confused. “What?”

“Uh, so.” He flexes his organic toes over her shoulder; she can feel his muscles moving in his calf. His prosthesis rests heavily on her back.

Jane pushes her hair out of her face and leans her cheek against his thigh. “Seriously, what?”

He glances to the back of the couch, then looks back to her. “So, you know how you said you’d peg Dirk?”

Her expression changes and she grins. “Oh, is that all?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah.”

“You want to go upstairs with me, then?” She pats his crotch. “And we’ll take care of this.”

Caliborn leans over to grab his pants and underwear off the floor, Jane leaves her glasses where they are, and they both stand up to make the short trek up to the second floor and into her bedroom. The shower is still running. It’s anyone’s guess how much Dirk can or can’t hear from within there.

As soon as they’re in her room, Jane tugs her t-shirt over her head and drops it to the floor near her doorway. Caliborn lets his clothing fall into what now counts as a pile, and pulls off both his shirt and—reluctantly—his suspenders to join the rest of it.

He stands beside her bed and watches as she pulls a bin out from under it and collects the supplies they’re going to need. Most of the items are a bright, saturated red reminiscent of the logo and branding with which they’re all familiar. The bottle of lubricant she picks out is the only product that wasn’t alchemized from a combination of other objects and Betty Crocker products. She slides the bin back under the bed when she’s retrieved what’s necessary.

Caliborn settles himself on her mattress and kicks the bedspread down and out of the way, so they don’t get anything untoward onto something more difficult to launder than just the sheets. She tosses a wand vibrator and a harness onto the bed; he watches them bounce lightly before holding still. A dildo and the bottle of lubricant join the first two in short order.

He eyes the dildo, and flicks his tongue out. “Will that fit in me?”

“We’ll get you worked up to it,” she assures him.

He parts his legs to allow her to lie down between them, and curls his arms over her shoulders as soon as she does; the cups of her bra are soft against him, and he runs his fingers along her skin, beneath the straps where they cross her shoulder blades. The denim of her jeans is not quite as inviting, but it’s not enough to deter him from lifting his thighs to wrap around her waist. 

“I’m going to fuck you right into this mattress,” she says, with and in confidence, and he darts his tongue out to flick against her ear in acknowledgement.

He lowers his hands to hover at the center of her back, and she nods at him, grinning, before he finishes the movement and unhooks the band, to pull her bra away from her chest. She lifts herself up enough to pull it off, and as soon as she’s totally topless against him, he lets his eyes fall closed to enjoy the closeness of her weight and warmth on top of him. 

“You feel good,” he breathes, almost overwhelmed by the simple gratification of the moment. 

“Don’t I, though?” Jane braces herself on her left elbow, and uses her right hand to lift her breast towards his mouth.

Caliborn does not need further prompting and begins licking at her nipple, the forked points of his tongue crossing her skin until it peaks. With a sigh, Jane lets her eyes fall closed, too, and they stay that way until she switches which arm she’s resting on and lifts her left breast to his mouth for similar attention. He eagerly accepts.

When he’s licked her enough for both sides to be plenty wet, stimulated by his tongue and the relative ambient chill of the air, she finally grows impatient enough to pull back and pull her pants and panties down and off. 

Caliborn keeps his legs spread wide for her, and Jane settles herself against him again. She’s far slicker than he is, although not for a lack of arousal on his part, and she grinds herself against him, her clit between his hemipenes, all rocked together with the movement of her hips. He lets out a sharp breath and brings his arms up around her shoulders again, to keep her close, and tilts his chin upward to kiss her.

She kisses him once, over top his teeth, and then tucks her head against his neck to breathe against his jawline as she rolls her hips against his. She can feel his hemipenes slide against her vulva, up against her pubic mound, less slippery for the presence of her pubic hair, but still satisfying all the same. Jane presses down against him, to rub the sensitive tissue between her stomach and his, until he’s tilting his head back into the pillow.

“You feel good,” she echoes, speaking against his throat, and he nods, as if it was a question and not a statement. 

She puts her teeth against the corded muscle at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and he groans.

He lifts his hips up to push his crotch against hers, and the limited conversation stills as they move with each other. She keeps her mouth near his pulse point and the subdermal heat pits under his jaw; he keeps one hand lightly trailing his claws over her back and the other cupping the ample curve of her breast, his thumb circling her nipple, where his saliva has evaporated. 

Caliborn sinks back into the pillow, his breath quickening, and flicks his tongue out. His expression is open, vulnerable as he looks up at her with long lashes fluttering over his cheekbones. “I could come just like this.”

Jane interprets the comment as a hint to shift back, and busies herself with pulling on the harness and fitting the dildo into it. Caliborn lets out a shaky breath and stares at the ceiling, stares at her posters and other various décor. Nervous Broad and Hysterical Dame wield weaponry just above his line of sight.

The shower is still going in the next room over, just down the hall. It’s anyone’s guess how long Dirk will keep himself occupied in the shower stall, but if his personal history has set any precedent, it could be hours. Fortunately, the game’s constructs do not seem to have a limit on hot water, mystifyingly enough. 

Caliborn watches as Jane adjusts the straps on the harness where they cross her hips, the bold red silicone rigid between her legs, and soon to be between his. He braces his heels against her bed, and positions himself to be as accessible as possible, staring at her fingers as she pours lubricant onto her fingertips. 

She smirks at him, and reaches to press a wet thumb against his hemipenes, alternating between them and slickening his cloacal flap. 

Caliborn lets his eyes fall half-lidded, staring at her, rapt, while she slides a finger inside his vent. “Oh, fuck.”

“You want this dick in you?” she asks. 

His muscles clench around her finger, and he nods.

She pours more lube onto her palm and uses it to coat the dildo, jacking it off in quick motions that spread it over the surface. 

Caliborn pulls his knees up to his chest to give her access, and shudders as Jane teases the head of the dildo against his vent and between his hemipenes. 

He takes deep breaths and waits for her to move, but Jane, with the dildo bobbing between her thighs with each movement, pats his hip and nods to him.

“Roll over,” she says, and he does, his face against the pillow and weight resting on his forearms.

He keeps his knees apart, his prosthetic leg heavier against the mattress than the organic side. His breath catches in his throat as she slides lube-slick fingertips underneath him to tease against his hemipenes and at the entrance to his vent. She rolls one hemipenis between her forefinger and thumb until his hips are shaking, and she abruptly ends the stimulation.

“Get ready,” she says, and he inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth.

Jane grips the base of the dildo in her right hand and his slender hip with her left hand, and guides the red silicone into his cloaca. 

His breathing comes in shorter gasps as she slides the dildo inside him, with a loud grunt as the head pushes its way forward at an accelerated pace as she leans her own weight into it and slides it home. Her hips are flush to his ass, her hands are on his hips, and his claws are digging into the linens.

“Don’t ruin my sheets, please,” she says, and she pets her hand up along his spine to soothe him as he adjusts to the size of the dildo within him.

“I’m not trying to,” he says, voice muffled against the pillow. He lays his hand flat against the sheets instead of gripping them, and shifts his weight to lower himself towards the bed, leaning forward and away from her. 

She pushes forward again to meet him, slowly, and pulls out just enough before rocking her hips back into place against his. He grunts.

“You like that?” she asks. “You like that dick fucking your ass?”

Caliborn’s breathing is more ragged than before, and he braces both hands against her bed. His face is still hidden against the pillowcase, where the foam is the recipient of his exhalations.

Jane returns both hands to his hips and holds him still as she picks up the pace, thrusting into him with each roll of her own hips, listening to the sound of the friction of the dildo pushing inside him. He’d spent so much time talking a big game to her, making grandiose claims about an ability to enjoy pain or laugh at violence; seeing him writhing beneath her seems only fitting. Turnabout is fair play, as they say.

“Jane,” he says, subdued. He turns his head to the side, so he can breathe more easily; he focuses on the relatively small poster of Howie Mandel’s monstrous visage. 

“Take it,” she says, playing into the fantasy, into what she imagines accompanies this dynamic. “Take the whole thing.”

She emphasizes the point by rocking her hips forward, and Caliborn makes a noise she’s unsure of.

He sinks his hips away again, lowering his gaze to stare at his hand, where it’s splayed on the bed. His voice is a collision. “You’re hurting me.”

“I’m...?” She immediately ceases all movement, thrown like whiplash. Troubled, she pulls out, and he makes a pained noise when the head of the dildo exits him.

For a moment the only sounds they can hear are the rise and fall of each other’s breathing and the continuous cascade of the running water in the shower.

“I know I might make it seem otherwise.” Caliborn rolls onto his side and lifts himself up with his forearm. “But I actually want things to be... y’know. Gentle.”

Jane sits beside him and tries not to feel ridiculous with the bright red strap-on jutting out from between her legs. “You could’ve told me.”

He flicks his tongue out, hesitant. “I did tell you. Just now.”

“Oh.”

“I thought it would feel different, but it’s not like using one on myself.” He pauses, trying to articulate this. “Since it’s inorganic there’s not as much give as, uh. As Dirk’s.”

“I suppose not.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Jane loosens the straps of the harness and slides it down over her legs and off, and lets the combination of harness and toy sit on the mattress. She settles beside him on her bed, and gingerly runs her fingertips along his hip and thigh.

“There’s actually a setting on that thing that switches it to _whisk mode_ ,” she says as she spoons him. “Maybe it’s for the best that it’s not in you after all.”

“Why would it even _need_ that mode?”

Jane shrugs, sideways. “Versatility in the heat of the moment, or in the heat of a kitchen?”

Caliborn laughs, and settles against her, her breasts and stomach pressed close to his back. “Does the _devilfucking_ make this hell’s kitchen?”

“Maybe the second circle.” Jane playfully blows air against his shoulder. “That is, if you want me to do the windy thing.”

He shivers and pushes back against her. “You can do whatever you want.”

“But I _canto_ , can I?” She runs her hand down his chest, over his stomach, hovering just above his groin. “So you won’t make me be Beatrice?”

“You can be whoever you want, too.” He leans his head back towards her shoulder. “That is something I firmly fucking believe in.”

“Maybe Dirk’s Beatrice, then.” She continues to feel him up, and slips her fingers down to brush over his hemipenes again, more delicately this time, coaxing them back out. “Since he’s already your boyfriend.”

“And I’m Dante?” He lets out a short huff of breath and watches her hand fondle him. “Even though I’m a literal angel or whatever?”

“Oh, but you’re writing the story for us, aren’t you? As a self-insert.” 

“Hey!”

“I didn’t say it was necessarily a bad thing.” She runs her thumb over a hemipenis until it’s everted again, still mildly slick with lubricant, but beginning to become tacky. “Do you want to try another toy?”

Caliborn nods. “Which one?”

“The magic wand.”

“Magic is fake as shit.”

“You won’t think so after this thing makes you a believer.” Jane sits up enough to plug the wand into the wall, and brings it around to nestle between Caliborn’s legs. “And this one requires no self-inserting, so to speak.”

He rubs himself against it, enjoying the feel of the smooth surface against his hemipenes. “Do you still have the lube?”

“I do, as it happens!”

She clicks open the cap again to pour a generous amount onto her fingertips, and after setting the bottle down but nearby, brings her hand between his thighs to ease the friction. The vast majority goes directly onto his vent, but she wipes whatever’s left onto the surface of the toy.

“Can you turn it on?” He presses towards it, and reaches back behind himself to run his hand along her thigh. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely, I will turn _you_ on.”

But all jokes aside, she does switch it on, and even the lowest buzzing is enough to have Caliborn slowly frotting himself against it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, rocking back against her and up again towards the toy. “Fuck yeah, this is better.”

“I think I’ll use it after you’re done,” Jane says, speaking against his jaw, at the subtle location of his ear. She moves it up and down between his thighs, to assist with the stimulation of the vibrations.

“Is that what you usually do?” he asks. “When you’re thinking about Dirk?”

She hesitates, and had almost forgotten she’d told him and Dirk both. It’s just as easy to own it, though, and she rolls her hips against his ass, as she spoons him. “Dirk’s not the only one I’ve thought about.”

Jane wedges her knee between his legs and gives him something to grind back onto. The lube has him wet enough to move against her as easily as she now glides the head of the wand over him. 

Caliborn reaches back for her hip again, in lieu of gripping the sheets, and the pace of his breathing escalates like it had earlier. His thrusting stutters, rocking towards the toy, holding himself against it for extended amounts of time with each subsequent push. Jane meets him on every upswing, circling it around his cloaca, pressing his hemipenes to his skin, slick as the buzzing surface passes over him.

The relatively low volume of his moaning is still a surprise, even the second time, because it’s so at odds with his demeanor over text. She wonders if it’s just with her. She wonders how he’d react to the question if she asked.

Instead, she reacts to the sound with action encouraging it, and shifts the vibrator up to a higher setting. He in turn switches to sharp gasping, eyes shut, lost in the slippery press of vinyl over his vent.

When he comes it’s with his thighs clenched around the head of the toy, and he grabs the handle beside Jane’s own grip, his tongue flicking out reflexively to sense the air, teeth bared from his labored breathing. He fumbles with it until he shifts it down to the lower setting, and keeps it nudged against himself, coaxing out every possible shivering iteration of his climax. 

There’s semen on both sides of the toy’s curvature, too viscous to venture far, and lubricant dripping down between his legs to land on Jane’s knee. His toes are tense and curled, and he flexes them as he basks in the afterglow. 

He laughs under his breath as he catches it, gradually, and passes the toy back over himself to hand it to Jane. “I think it’s your turn.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Jane takes the wand and doesn’t bother to wipe it off before lowering it between her labia. She shifts onto her back and settles against the pillow, legs parted and knees bent just enough to make the angle comfortable. 

Caliborn props himself up on one elbow, regarding her but without looming over her. “Do you want help?”

His face is flushed and his posture is far more relaxed, post-coital and at ease in her bed, comfortable beside her. _Frightening fauna_ seems a total misnomer, and if she’s being honest with herself, maybe it was unfair from the start. The best is the devil you know, as it were.

She’s still pleased to contemplate him.

“I would appreciate the assistance, yes.” 

“Okay.” He shifts to curl against her, his organic left leg draped over her left as well, and cups her breast in his hand, careful to keep his claws from pressing too firmly against her skin. It keeps him well out of the way of her right arm’s range of motion, and with infinite patience, he positions himself to lick her as long as it takes. “Tell me if I fuck up.”

Jane moves the head of the wand in a steady rotation around her clit and the surrounding skin of her vulva, and lets out a grateful sigh as soon as his tongue begins to tease her nipple to stiffness. “Smooth sailing so far.”

He watches her as she pleasures herself, her features both focused and at ease, her hips lifting shallowly as she slides the vibrator over and between her labia. It strikes him as a ninety degree rotation of his own arrangement, but it’s hard to harbor anything but quiet admiration for humanity as she clenches her jaw and breathes faster, exhaling through her nose. 

Caliborn skates his claw tips down along her sternum, to rest at the swell of her stomach, fascinated by the novelty of her navel. He has no idea what it’s for and isn’t sure he wants to know.

Jane arches up towards his hand, maneuvers the wand so the cord doesn’t block his access, lets it lie next to her right side. She ups the speed to further stimulate herself, and groans through her gritted teeth. 

Caliborn settles in closer on her left side, keeps his tongue moving against her breast, trails his fingers down to touch the upper edge of her pubic hair. She and Dirk are alien in this regard, but he’s grown accustomed to the sensation of their bodies against his, and wouldn’t trade it for anything identical. Not at this point.

“You want me to make you come?” he asks, echoing her earlier question, back on the couch with her fingers at his vent.

She catches on, and laughs breathily. “Yeah. Use your teeth.”

Uncertain, he clarifies. “You sure?”

“Yes.” She rubs the wand against herself, lifting her hips as in sync as she’s realistically going to get when she’s this close. She smiles and looks at him, with his mouth so close to her chest. “But I actually want things to be... y’know. Gentle.”

He grins back at her, complete with a tooth that’s as glittering as it is gold, and delicately takes her nipple between his teeth, absolutely certain not to bite down.

Her reaction is immediate, and she switches the vibrator up to its most powerful setting. She lets her head fall slightly to the side, chin almost to her shoulder, supported by the pillow as she keeps her hand moving and starts moaning. 

Caliborn puts his hand on her breast and squeezes, guiding her nipple into his mouth, between the faintest, precisely applied pressure of his teeth. His breath is hot enough to be enticing, despite his core temperature being lower than hers, and he darts his tongue against her on top of it all, wet enough to get her even wetter.

She comes with a groan and holds the wand directly against her clit, jostling it in tight movements from side to side as her legs tense, as her abs go taut, as she shivers her way through it. The head of the toy is coated in her slickness and the last remnants of Caliborn’s spunk. She rocks against it until she’s utterly spent, and lets herself sink against the mattress, exhaling.

When she’s through, when the toy is turned back off but left resting between her legs, Caliborn repositions himself to rest his head on her shoulder, one arm curled over her chest. She’s warm, and he’s comfortable; when her breathing finally slows to something approaching normalcy, she moves the vibrator over to the edge of the mattress and rolls onto her side to embrace him.

“You’re warm,” he says, giving voice to it.

“Mammal.” She smiles. “You’re small and so easy to hold.”

He bristles, momentarily, before relaxing in her arms. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

She runs her fingers up along his spine, feeling out the slight ridges of his scutes. "I’m sorry I was too rough with you.”

Caliborn presses closer to her chest and tucks his chin over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

Jane lets out a deep sigh and keeps her fingertips trailing over his back. For a while they focus on breathing, on the dampened sound of the running water in Jane’s shower, until it abruptly cuts off.

They both turn their heads to look at the far wall, as if there isn’t an obvious explanation. A minute passes and nothing happens, so they settle back into the idle cuddling they were already engaged in.

Caliborn reaches down to let his fingertips curve over Jane’s stomach and dip briefly into her navel on the way. “Why do humans have this?”

Jane copies his movement to move her hand from his back to similarly pet across his flat, smooth stomach. “Well, because when we’re born, we...”

She trails off and furrows her brow.

Caliborn flicks his tongue out, intrigued. “What? What is it?”

“I’m... not exactly sure that I should... hm.” She actively frowns. “If we were, if John…”

He pulls back slightly and watches as the expression on her face cycles from confusion to indignation to panic. “Seriously, what?”

Before Jane can elaborate, Dirk crosses the threshold into her bedroom, with damp hair and a somewhat less damp outfit comprised of novelty boxers and a plain black v-neck undershirt, both of which were procured from the stash of clothes he keeps at Jane’s house for just such an occasion. He steps around the door and stands next to the bed.

“Hey.” He surveys the scene and grins. “You guys got real fuckin’ cozy, huh?”

Jane makes wide-eyed eye contact with him. “Dirk, why do we have navels?”

Dirk doesn’t miss a beat. “For gazing, duh.”

Jane presses on, undeterred. “But if John—”

Dirk shrugs. “Ain’t worth overthinking it, man.”

Caliborn’s wide-eyed for a disparate reason. “What is _that_?”

Dirk wiggles his hips. The [ hand-knitted](https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/521902390/horse-boxers-funny-underwear-knit-shorts), horse-shaped _proboscis_ jiggles. “Fashion.”

“Uh... huh.”

“Plenty of great things happen in the vicinity of this sexy stud.” 

Jane laughs. “That, I do not doubt.”

“Are you intending to happen in our vicinity?” Caliborn asks, still nestled against Jane’s chest.

“I already happened in the shower, like thirty minutes ago.” He climbs into the bed beside them, and lies down between the wall and Caliborn, spooning him.

“I can feel that tiny horse next to my ass.”

Dirk kisses his shoulder. “You should see the Gonzo ones.”

“Was all that time enough to prevent the cake from caking onto your skin, Dirk?” Jane reaches over Caliborn to affectionately stroke her fingers along Dirk’s arm.

He turns his hand over to catch hers in his and squeeze it. “Yeah, and to get off besides.”

Caliborn reaches for their joined hands and holds them together, resting over his hip in the center of the bed. “You gonna tell us about that choice bit of debauchery?”

“Well.” Dirk pats their hands and reaches down to bring the bedspread over all three of them, the vibrator where it’s still next to Jane, and the other assorted sex toys and lube bottle. The more the merrier. “I couldn’t hear you guys fucking, but I put my imagination to good use.”

“The one time you really needed it?” Caliborn jokes.

Dirk snorts.

“Does your garment count as a codpiece?” Jane asks. 

“If you’re asking if this junk drawer confers any status improvements, the answer is that it’s plus two to charisma but nothing to armor class.”

“But you’re insisting that it’s _classy_ armor, right?” Caliborn lets his eyes close, warmed by the humans’ body heat as it’s caught in the covers.

“It’s at least haute couture, isn’t it?”

Jane pulls the cover further up, to curl the corner around her shoulder. “I think it has to cost a significant amount of money to count.”

Dirk makes a noncommittal noise. “Sburb valued it at like seventy boonbucks when I alchemized it.”

Caliborn is adrift in a sea of blanket. He speaks from under it, under their protective arms. “That’s a lot of yen.”

Dirk laughs. “I’ll just take it out of my monthly tugboat.”

Caliborn and Jane say nothing. Dirk waits for a response, and eventually lifts his head to look at them.

“Hey, are you guys asleep?”

“No,” Jane mumbles.

Dirk rests his hand on Jane’s hip and kisses Caliborn’s cheek from behind. “You gonna wash all the bodily fluids off yourselves?”

Caliborn makes a contented noise and settles back against Dirk’s chest, his face still resting at Jane’s collarbone. “Later.”

“Famous last words.” For a minute no one says anything, but it’s still Dirk who speaks back up. “Are we napping with the lights on?”

Jane opens her eyes slightly. “That involves getting up.”

“Perish the fucking thought.” Dirk extracts himself from the blanket/cuddle pile and climbs off the end of the bed. “I’ve got you covered.”

Jane smiles, grateful. “A true hero.”

Dirk flips the lightswitch next to her bookshelf, and turns to look out her window, where a neutral amount of illumination allows for a certain amount of visibility without being obtrusive. “You ever gonna get some curtains in here?”

“Curtains imply narrative closure,” Caliborn says, stirring enough to rejoin conversation. He yawns anyway. “Or at least performativity.”

“All the world’s an audience if you guys were fucking in front of the window.”

“Maybe it is and we can’t see it.” Caliborn gestures widely with one arm, lifted out of the warmth of the covers to illustrate his point.

“Yeah? Some undetectable, seamless set?”

“Cyclorama,” Caliborn says, and returns his arm beneath the blanket.

“How existential should we get?” Dirk asks, rhetorically, still looking out through the windowpanes. “Like, is that really fog out there, or is the draw distance just really shitty? Do we have to walk there before it renders?”

“They say the more meta you get about your circumstances, the closer you approach villainy.” Caliborn’s tone is almost rueful. “It’s directly proportional.”

Dirk grins at him. “You don’t spoil good metaphysics with a lot of stupid math.”

Caliborn flicks his tongue out, this time deliberately.

“I’ve returned to our stage for act three, _in medias res_.” Dirk takes off his clothes and adds them to the triply-discarded pile on the floor. The knitted horse head stares up from the heap of clothing. “You think your house will stay on LOCAH like this forever?”

“Hm?”

“That is, barring any incidents with a Keurig in a bathroom outlet.”

“Ain’t worth overthinking it,” Jane says, wagging her eyebrows at Dirk. “Come back to bed.”

“Yeah,” Caliborn agrees. “You should be in here.”

“Says the ectothermic ectomorph.” Dirk does as requested, and tugs the sheet loose from the end of the bed enough to wrap it around himself, no longer tethered to the mattress. “Snuggled up with the endothermic endomorph.”

Caliborn turns over and tucks his head beneath Dirk’s chin. 

Jane trades cuddling roles with Dirk and spoons Caliborn in his stead. As she moves, her foot accidentally kicks the harness. “By that logic, shouldn’t our resident mesomorph be in the middle?”

“Man, Sheldon’s shit has all been fuckin’ debunked. I just liked the alliteration.”

Caliborn sighs and speaks against Dirk’s shoulder. “I like _you_.”

“Why would you say something so controversial, and yet so brave?”

“Because it’s the goddamn truth.”

“You know what else is true?” Dirk kisses the top of Caliborn’s head. “This is all a construct. We’re located at a point in spacetime that makes it possible for us to be fucking each other.”

“I think we can agree that circumstances have conspired to bring us all into the same bed, at least.” Jane reaches over to stroke her hand over Dirk’s hip, where it’s covered by the sheet. “Our collective nudity is a plus.”

“That it is, Jane. That it is.”

“So let’s make like frogs,” she says, petting upward along his side to eventually brush her fingers through his hair, “and let the meta conversation metamorphose into something more enjoyable.”

“Like what?” Dirk asks.

“Like sleeping,” Caliborn murmurs.

“Yeah, all right,” Dirk says. “Let’s crash into slumber.”

**Author's Note:**

> go out and zap to the extreme


End file.
